Oswald paced his chamber under the most cruel agitation, sometimes stopping to look at the moon, which in Italy is so mild and so beautiful.  The aspect of nature inspires resignation; but it is without effect upon a mind racked with uncertainty.  The next day arrived without bringing any relief to his distracted thoughts, and when the Count d’Erfeuil and Mr Edgermond came to visit him, they were uneasy as to the state of his health, so much was he altered by the anxieties of the night.  The Count d’Erfeuil was the first who spoke.—­“It must be allowed,” said he, “that yesterday’s entertainment was charming.  Corinne is a most admirable woman.  I lost half her words, but I understood everything from her voice and her countenance.  What a pity it is, that a rich lady should be possessed of this talent!  For if she were in humbler circumstances, and unrestrained as she is, she might embrace the stage as a profession; and to have an actress like her, would be the glory of Italy.”

Oswald received a painful impression from this speech, and yet could not tell how to make it known.  For there was that about the Count, that one could not be angry at what he said, even though it were disagreeable to one’s feelings.  None but sensitive minds understand those delicate precautions which they owe each other:  self-love, so alive to every thing that affects itself, hardly ever thinks of the susceptibility of others.

Mr Edgermond praised Corinne in the most becoming and flattering terms.  Oswald answered him in English, in order to relieve the conversation about Corinne from the disagreeable eulogiums of the Count.  “I see I am one too many here,” said the Count; “well I will pay a visit to Corinne:  she will not be sorry I dare say to hear my observations upon her acting yesterday evening.  I have some advice to give her, too, upon details; but these details are very essential to the effect of the whole:  she is really so astonishing a woman that one should neglect nothing to assist her in attaining perfection.—­And besides,” said he, inclining towards Nelville’s ear, “I wish to encourage her to play tragedy more often:  ’tis a certain way to get married by some foreigner of distinction who may pass through this city.  As to you and me, my dear Oswald, that idea does not concern us, we are too much accustomed to charming women to commit foolish things; but who knows? a German prince, or a Spanish grandee—­” At these words Oswald rose up almost beside himself, and it is impossible to conceive what would have been the issue, if the Count d’Erfeuil had perceived his emotion; but he was so satisfied with his last reflection, that he tripped away lightly, not in the least suspecting that he had offended Lord Nelville:  had he known it, though he loved him as much as man could love another, he would certainly have remained.  The brilliant valour of the Count, contributed still more than his self-love to render him blind to his defects.  As he was extremely delicate in everything that regarded honour, he did not imagine that he could be wanting with respect to sensibility; and believing himself, not without reason, amiable and brave, he was pleased with his lot, and did not suspect there was any more profound way of regarding life than his own.